


To a Point

by Malkovich



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Angst, Bad Jokes, Clearing the air, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, earnest declarations of feelings et al
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:15:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2831150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkovich/pseuds/Malkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon fucked up with Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan fucked up with Anakin, and Anakin has just about had it with all this drama.</p><p>Or: on the return flight to Naboo, everyone gets a chance to feel their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I might mosey on into this fandom 14 years later...
> 
> This was spawned from my perpetual desire to knock Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's heads together and make them _sit down and talk._ It's unapologetic id fic, and part one of two. I will hopefully have the last bit up tomorrow. And as it's my first step into this fandom and I'm shaky on characterization, any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Also, for general reference, I've got Obi-Wan as around 21 here, with he and Qui-Gon having been bonded for a year or so.

**To a Point**

**i/ii**

After his unexpected confrontation with the cloaked warrior on Tatooine, Qui-Gon had faltered. True, the physical consequences had been trying - every muscle in his body had felt strained, every tendon on the verge of tearing and his limbs near collapse, aches the likes of which he'd never felt weighing him down - but it had been the mental wrenching that knocked him so far off his center. His mind had never been put under the sort of mental attack that the Sith had assaulted him with, a driving need and bloodlust and utter darkness that had nearly consumed him. A Master of the Jedi Order (and Qui-Gon could say without arrogance, one of the more capable ones) and it had taken every ounce of his considerable ability simply to keep his shields in place.

On an individual level, being so thoroughly taken by surprise and knocked on his arse had been humbling, to say the least. The bigger picture — that the Sith had reappeared after a millennia — had left him reeling with the implications for not only the Jedi but the galaxy as a whole. And on a personal level, it had invoked a kind of terror Qui-Gon had only ever imagined as a concept, that had his blood running cold and his heart trembling in his chest. 

He was at all times prepared for death, for battle, for political upheaval — for war, if it came to that as most things with the Sith historically did. What he wasn't prepared for, could never prepare for, was the writhing miasma of darkness that he was now certain loomed in the shadows of his apprentice's future. Not within Obi-Wan, of course, at least not yet, but surrounding him, suffocating him, a relentless pain and loss and fear that Qui-Gon was not apt enough to feel anything but vague hints of but that struck him like lightning.

He'd found himself unable to meditate in the wake of the short battle with the Sith and all that it had entailed, and though he'd allowed his bondmate to ease him into a dreamless sleep he'd still felt wrecked enough upon waking only a few hours later that he hadn't been able to stomach the idea of speaking with Obi-Wan candidly. Obi-Wan would normally have demanded it, but perhaps his own fears had kept him from badgering an answer out of Qui-Gon, or perhaps he had known instinctively that Qui-Gon needed time. Whatever the case, they had had their hands quite full between advising the Queen on how to handle the upcoming Senate session, mediating petty arguments between the highly stressed Naboo guardsmen, steering Jar Jar Binks clear of all things breakable, and taking care of their young charge. 

As Obi-Wan had kept a bewildering and careful distance from Anakin, the last task had fallen mostly to Qui-Gon, who, keen not to dwell on the bad feeling churning inside him, had welcomed the amount of focus necessary to keep up with a nine-year-old tech-savvy Force supernova on a small starship. Qui-Gon had spent all of his free time keeping Anakin as busy as possible with anything from chores to texts to training him in basic shielding in anticipation of the twelve formidable Jedi Masters he was soon to be presented to. Time went by quickly with Anakin, who was full of life and laughter and ever eager to help and learn. And when the loneliness, coldness and sadness became too much for the boy, it was no hardship to offer what comfort and distraction Qui-Gon could, holding him like his mother would have, telling him stories of the more interesting and adventurous of his past missions, or simply helping him to sleep.

By the time the ship had reached Coruscant, Qui-Gon himself had slept no more than a handful of hours since they'd left Tatooine, and had been a nursing a headache and an aching knot of anxiety and painfully bared nerves in his mind. He'd felt frayed around the edges and in a rather foul mood even before the Council had pissed him off. The additional surge of desperation when they'd refused Anakin, the sharp slice of quickly-quelled hurt from Obi-Wan when Qui-Gon had spoken without thinking in the Council room, the following petty argument with him, and a renewed sense of utter helplessness hadn't helped matters.

Fortunately, mind and body could only take so much, and once aboard the Queen's ship again and isolated in the shared quarters he and Obi-Wan had been assigned, he'd managed to work through his roiling emotions long enough to drop into the healing trance he'd so desperately needed.

The trip to Naboo from Coruscant was just over five standard days. Qui-Gon wasn't surprise to surface on the second, feeling exponentially more himself. He slid from his bunk and got to his feet, stretching, testing all his limbs and finding them in perfect working order and then his mental faculties. His shields were back to their full strength, and the Force flowed through him with familiar, loving ease. His lifebond with Obi-Wan was lightly shielded, as was always necessary when on a mission, but just as warm and breathtakingly beautiful as it had ever been, new fibers of strength braiding into it constantly as was its wont since its development.

Satisfied that he was both physically and mentally able to handle it, he found himself desperately wanting to speak to his padawan, to apologize and explain himself. He showered, pulled on clean leggings and a simple blue shirt, tied his hair into a messy braid, left his small room and followed the steady impulse in his mind directly to….the cargo hold. All in all not even among the stranger places Obi-Wan had wandered off to on ships in the past, but a bit surprising nonetheless. Judging by the resonating spike of energy in the Force, it was safe to assume Anakin was with him. 

Qui-Gon stepped through the main bay door, and then slowed to a stop outside the proper entryway, still out of sight, not yet wanting to intrude when he heard the rather wary tone in Anakin's voice.

"I know you're busy, Sir."

Obi-Wan answered with quiet warmth. "Not so busy. Are you looking for something? I'd be happy to help."

"No, Sir. I just followed Artoo." The droid beeped, sounding quite cold. Qui-Gon would have smiled if it weren't his apprentice on the receiving end of such blatant distrust.

"Ah," said Obi-Wan. "And I followed you." 

Qui-Gon could hear the polite smile in his voice, and winced. Generally Obi-Wan was very good with children, but Anakin had less child in him than most other boys his age and wouldn't appreciate being coddled. The sudden chill throughout the hold attested to that easily enough.

"You don't have to…" Anakin started, breaking off with a quiet huff. Qui-Gon couldn't see them, didn't know if they were sitting or standing or how far apart they were, but he could imagine the expression on each of their faces as they talked around each other. "You don't have to check on me. I promise I won't do anything I'm not supposed to."

There was a shocked silence that stretched for a long time before Obi-Wan began cautiously, "I wasn't...I didn't follow you to…" 

For a moment, Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan might continue on this failing diplomatic track, but then he loosed a loud and heavy sigh that was broken by a muffled groan, and Qui-Gon knew that he was scrubbing a hand over his face in exhausted, self-deprecating frustration. "Force, I've really cocked this right up, haven't I?"

R2-D2 beeped in pointed agreement and this time Qui-Gon did grin. Anakin didn't reply, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath. A few moments later, Qui-God heard the soft whump of something heavy easing from the shelves and onto the ground, presumably a box to sit on, as there were no chairs in the cargo hold. "Anakin, what you heard—"

"I know," Anakin said, cutting him off. "You didn't mean for me to hear it."

"That's not what I—"

"You didn't even look at me," Anakin said, the tension all but crackling in the air. "You talked about me like I wasn't even there, like Watto does when another free person is around. But worse! Like I was—" His voice cracked. "'Cause you talked about me like I'm just some animal that's too _dangerous_ to be allowed to live!"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan pleaded, horrified. "I don't think that. I've never thought that. Not once, not _ever_ , and I'm so very sorry that I made you feel that way."

Anakin seemed uncomfortable with the apology. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, I don't— I didn't mean to cause trouble. I'm just in a bad mood. I really wanted to be a Jedi."

"It does matter," Obi-Wan said. "Your feelings matter, my friend. You matter. And you're not causing trouble. I followed you here to apologize for my behavior, Anakin. It was most certainly me, and not you, acting in a manner unbecoming of a Jedi. Of a sentient being with any decency, even. I was an arsehole."

A little giggle escaped Anakin, and even with the bond slightly shielded Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan's relief. It was audible in his voice, as well. "It's all right, you can laugh. It's the truth. I was a right arsehole."

"Maybe a little," Anakin said finally, and Qui-Gon tilted his head back to rest against the wall, the knot in his chest loosening just a bit. There were a few thuds and a soft swear — Anakin clambering onto a box to sit, most certainly — and then the boy went on. "But you're not always, are you?"

"I try not to be," Obi-Wan answered. "I don't always succeed, of course."

"But everyone at the Temple was telling me how fun you are, you and Master Qui-Gon. Is it just...Is it just me?"

"No," Obi-Wan answered, and then hesitated. Qui-Gon frowned deeply, but Obi-Wan spoke again with an openness he rarely allowed. "That's not entirely true. It wasn't you as a person, but the situation surrounding you."

"I don't understand."

"I know, I'm not explaining this well." It was quiet for some time before Obi-Wan finally found the words. "You have a strong sense of empathy. I'm sure that you've noticed that you can sometimes tell how someone is feeling, especially if they're feeling a particularly powerful emotion."

"I guess," Anakin admitted.

"When I was being a berk to you the other day, I can only imagine that you were curious as to why, and my own shielding was less than adequate at the time. Did you feel anything from me?"

Anakin answered slowly, all his considerable concentration on trying to remember. "You were...frustrated? And hurt...like, your feelings were hurt." Qui-Gon swallowed hard, damning himself not for the first time for the fool that he was, and he allowed himself only a moment of choking guilt before returning his attention to the conversation. "And you were angry, and worried, and...jealous?"

"There ya go," Obi-Wan said, approving but wry.

"But not, like…Not jealous at me. None of it was aimed at me." Qui-Gon could just imagine Anakin's face screwing up thoughtfully. "I get it, now, kinda, I think. It wasn't me at all, right?"

"Nothing to do with you," Obi-Wan told him kindly. "Or anyone but me, honestly, and all due to old insecurities that even as a Jedi who was raised in the Temple I have been unable to completely conquer."

Qui-Gon let his eyes close, wanting to flood their bond with reassurance and love but not wanting to interrupt and not yet secure enough in his footing with Obi-Wan after this entire disastrous mission to reach out without express permission, especially as Obi-Wan, who surely knew he was listening, had yet to attempt a more intimate contact yet either. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat quietly. "Anakin, I truly am sorry. It is inexcusable that I took my feelings out on you."

"It's okay," said Anakin. Obi-Wan had been forgiven and dubbed a friend the moment he'd called himself an arsehole, though Qui-Gon was certain that the fact that Obi-Wan had apologized at all was all it would have taken. Anakin would not accept being treated poorly in silence, but he _was_ used to it. "I'm jealous all the time, because of lots of stuff. Besides, it wasn't just me. Master Qui-Gon is the one you were shouting at."

Obi-Wan sputtered indignantly. "I was not _shouting_."

Anakin was laughing. "Well, you wanted to be," he insisted. "I never saw anyone tell someone off so politely."

Obi-Wan huffed. "Yes, well. Master Qui-Gon fucked up pretty spectacularly himself. If I had been shouting at him — and I _wasn't_ — he'd have deserved it."

It was accompanied by a mental touch through the bond so light and loving it felt like a caress, and Qui-Gon's heart felt suddenly too big for his chest. He pushed himself off the wall and leaned against the door jamb in open view instead. As he'd thought, Obi-Wan had removed a large cargo trunk from one of the shelves on the walls, and he and Anakin were both sitting on it, Obi-Wan with one leg folded underneath himself and his other foot on the floor and Anakin cross-legged and facing him, his back to Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's gaze briefly and his mouth quirked into a half smile, but only for a moment because Anakin started talking again, words spilling out faster and faster.

"Mr., um, Padawan Kenobi? Did you mean what you said, though? Even if you didn't mean how you said it," Anakin hurried on before Obi-Wan could correct him. "Do you think the Council is right? That I shouldn't be trained?"

"Not at all. Despite that I was childishly trying to infuriate my Master by disagreeing with him," Obi-Wan answered, and Anakin let out another laugh but it was thin. Obi-Wan tilted his head, concerned. "I think it's of vital importance that you be trained as Jedi."

"Because I'm the 'Chosen One'?" Anakin asked, a paradoxical mixture of pride and sullen distaste all but radiating from him. Qui-Gon winced again. He'd hoped that mentioning the prophecy in front of Anakin had been a dream.

"No," Obi-Wan said flatly. "And once Naboo is safely back in the hands of its Queen, you and Qui-Gon should sit down and have a long conversation about what he meant by that."

"You can't tell me?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm sorry, my friend. That's most certainly a conversation to have with your future Master."

Anakin leaned forward. "Master?" he asked, with a desperate hope in his voice that broke Qui-Gon's heart nearly as much as the quiet pain in Obi-Wan's did. "But...But the Council said I was too old."

"You will be trained, Anakin Skywalker," Obi-Wan said with perfect confidence.

"They think I'm dangerous," Anakin said, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around them. The Council members had scared him, made him doubt himself. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were equally guilty of doing the same. Qui-Gon could only hope that they would be able to reassure him. Anakin's voice was trembling. "So do you. You all do, don't you? The whole Temple thinks—"

Obi-Wan reached out and tugged affectionately on Anakin's hair, just hard enough to draw him out of the spiral of self-pity and frustration that was threatening. "You are incredibly strong in the Force, little Anakin. If you've heard nothing else from the adults around you who should know better — including myself — I know you've heard that. You can feel it, can't you? Now with Qui-Gon and myself to compare it to, when you were able to sense us with our shields weakened." 

He gestured over Anakin's shoulder for Qui-Gon to come and join them, and Anakin looked around and noticed Qui-Gon there for the first time. Qui-Gon offered a comforting smile as he approached.

"But I didn't...I didn't ask for it!" Anakin argued as Qui-Gon sat down next to his padawan, cross-legged so that he could tuck his bare feet under his thighs. "I don't even really know what it means. It just made me a better racer!"

"We rarely ask for the burdens we carry," Qui-Gon said gently. 

"Burden?" Anakin repeated, the grumpy look on his face becoming grumpier.

"A burden, yes, as well as a gift."

Obi-Wan offered a lopsided grin. "Balance, there must be, yes?"

Anakin didn't seem to hear him, or more likely hadn't heard enough from Master Yoda to get the joke. He still looked troubled and unhappy. Qui-Gon gripped his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "It is not something singular to you, Anakin. Not understanding one's own strength as well as weaknesses is something every being in the galaxy struggles with on some degree."

"Even Jedi?"

Qui-Gon snorted a laugh. "Most especially Jedi."

"Even you guys?" Anakin pressed, searching their faces.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Oh, yes. Obi-Wan's strong connection to the Unifying Force has granted him a powerful prescient ability that manifests itself in visions of possible futures, which are very trying on both body and mind."

Anakin looked very impressed, and Obi-Wan winked. "What my Master is too thoughtful to mention is that more often than not and despite all logic, I become convinced that my visions are irrefutable truth. That sort of conviction paired with my, ah, mild stubbornness," — Qui-Gon laughed out loud in incredulity and Obi-Wan carried on, ignoring him — "I tend to transform into a complete bantha's arse toward anyone who disagrees with me."

"He's very good about apologizing once he realizes he's wrong," Qui-Gon told Anakin, who was at least beginning to smile again.

"Though one would think, since I had my first vision when I was a toddler, that I would have learned from it by now. And yet…"

Obi-Wan smiled when Anakin patted his knee comfortingly. "What about you, Master Qui-Gon?" Anakin asked. "You're so strong, too. I can feel how strong you are."

Qui-Gon had no doubt that Anakin could tell a great many things about a person without even trying. The Force was singing around him, so bright it nearly hurt to look at him. "It took years of practice to gain an understanding and control of my own connection to the Living Force and my abilities. Even now I struggle. And unlike when I was young, now when I make mistakes,due to my rank and skill, they're rather colossal ones.

"You are never too old to begin training your body and mind, Ani," Qui-Gon said more quietly. "You will be trained not because of the prophecy of the Chosen One, but because it would be a lapse of common decency for the Council to deny you."

"But they think I'm dangerous," Anakin said, face screwing up. He was exhausted. He'd been through so much in such a short time. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to offer what little comfort he could, still irritated with the High Council himself, but Obi-Wan spoke before he could get a word out.

"You are," he said flatly. Anakin looked wounded and Qui-Gon raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his Padawan. Obi-Wan frowned and scrubbed his hand over his face and back through his hair. "I'm sorry, I know how terrible that sounds, but I feel it an important lesson to learn. A strong connection to the Force _is_ dangerous. You felt the Sith warrior that Qui-Gon fought, and you grew up on Tatooine; you have seen first hand what power can do to someone, the way it can twist people, even good people. It's too easy to misunderstand, or take advantage of. There are terrible things any of us could be driven to do by desperation, fear, sadness, lust, longing, regret, or even happiness and confidence and love. You must be aware of it, and you must work to come to grips with it for your own safety and sanity."

Qui-Gon was quite impressed. He would have perhaps attempted to soften this hard truth a bit, but on the whole Obi-Wan was right, and ever so wise. Anakin needed to hear these things, especially now when his emotions were loud and intense. And, equally impressive, Anakin seemed to take it in stride, even less startled by Obi-Wan's intensity than he probably ought to be. 

"Is that why the whole…" he waved a hand in the air, "'Jedi must not feel emotion' thing?"

Obi-Wan made a face and Qui-Gon felt a smile tug at his lips. He squeezed Anakin's shoulder again before letting his hand fall back into his own lap. "For a number of reasons, the Council doesn't have the luxury of looking at each of us individually and seeing a sentient being with worries and fears and flaws, and therefore the Code doesn't either. An order as ancient as the Jedi is resistant to overt change and in order to be a part of society as it is today a certain amount of politics must be played. What you'll come to understand is that as Jedi, we feel more intensely than most. It's to our benefit, often, but more than once has led to a Jedi's downfall. It's the latter that Code and Council hope to prevent."

"It's important to let yourself feel," Obi-Wan added. "But it's also important to be able to let those feelings go when they become a threat. It's not always easy. Almost never, actually."

"I'll learn how?" Anakin asked doubtfully.

"You will," Qui-Gon promised. He would train Anakin without the Council's permission, if he had to, but he had a feeling that they would come around. It was most likely their own irritation with Qui-Gon that had brought them to this point in the first place. The whirlwind of anxiety around Anakin slowed and eased, settled again into overwhelming brightness. He unfolded and all but launched himself at Obi-Wan, hugging him tightly.

Obi-Wan grunted, his expression shifting from shocked to bemused to affectionate in the space of a second, and he hugged Anakin back and murmured another apology into his hair. Once the separated, Qui-Gon was treated to an equally enthusiastic embrace, which he happily returned. "It will be all right, Ani," he told Anakin. "You are exactly where you belong, and the Council will see that too. Trust in that."

Anakin nodded against Qui-Gon's chest and then pulled away, his cheeks a bit red. "I think I'm gonna go find Padme."

"I think she'd like that," Qui-Gon agreed. 

Anakin slid off of the box and rubbed the back of his head, awkwardly regarding Obi-Wan. "Thanks for explaining why you...Just, thanks for being sorry. It means a lot."

"I am, Anakin," Obi-Wan said sincerely. "I truly am."

"I know," Anakin said. His smile turned a little more sly. "Are you two gonna stay in here a while?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, no doubt about to tell Anakin how inappropriate and correct his implication was, but Qui-Gon took his hand and squeezed gently, which distracted him. "For a bit," he answered. "I have a few apologies of my own to make."

Anakin frowned curiously. "Did you really fuck up, Master Qui-Gon?"

Obi-Wan bit his bottom lip on a smirk. Qui-Gon figured a direct question deserved an equally direct answer. "You have no idea, my young friend."

His bondmate's gaze was intense, searching, and Qui-Gon didn't know what it was he was looking for but he hoped Obi-Wan found it. 

They said goodbye to Anakin, who made it to the door before he turned around again. "Erm, Obi-Wan? Padawan Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan's face cracked into an amused grin. "Yes?"

"About your, uh, vision. Things. The possible futures."

"Mm?"

"Have you ever seen anything about me?"

Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat, and the easy peace he'd found in Obi-Wan's presence was doused by the reality of the mess they were in, that the galaxy existed beyond this room. Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice. He looked thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to remember, and then shrugged and shook his head, smiling genially. "No, I don't believe I have."

"Damn," Anakin said, turning to leave again. "I was hoping you'd saw me and Padme married or something."

The door swished closed behind him. Master and Padawan stared at it, and only once the silence had stretched so long it was becoming awkward did they turn to face each other. Qui-Gon still held Obi-Wan's hand in his own. He lifted it to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to the palm. Obi-Wan melted momentarily, and then became disgruntled when he realized it, and narrowed his eyes when Qui-Gon laughed, not quite managing to hold back a smile.

"Forgive me the cliche, my Master," he began in a dry voice. "But give me one good reason why you won't be sleeping on a couch somewhere across the fucking galaxy for the remainder of this mission?"

Gods, but Qui-Gon loved him. 

He kissed Obi-Wan's hand again and offered his own rueful smile, which dropped away quickly when he reached through the bond and Obi-Wan let his battered shields slip away. The only thing worse than the tender hurt that Qui-Gon had caused still pulsing like a bruise in Obi-Wan's exhausted mind was the taint of resignation all around it, as though he understood. Qui-Gon brushed his fingers over Obi-Wan's cheek, heart clenching when Obi-Wan leaned into it.

"I have none, my love, but I would appreciate the chance to beg your forgiveness before you send me away."

It was both the truth and a sad attempt at a joke. Obi-Wan snorted, rolling his eyes, which could only be a good sign even if he didn't reply. Qui-Gon could be infinitely patient. He was still save for the gentle stroke of his fingertips of the height of Obi-Wan's cheekbone, and after a few agonizing minutes Obi-Wan turned his head enough to brush his lips over Qui-Gon's fingers, and then finally met his eyes again.

"All right, Qui," he drawled. "Let's hear it."

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must warn for the truly offensive amount of sap in the following.

**ii/ii**

Qui-Gon looked better.

His blue eyes were brighter in the absence of dark circles beneath them and the harsh lines that had creased his face in his exhaustion had all but disappeared. He _felt_ better, too. The healing trance had done wonders for the pain and weakness that had plagued him both physically and mentally. Through the bond, Obi-Wan could feel the revitalized strength; the lingering ache and the quiet, unsettled contemplation his master seemed to still be struggling with little match for the Force that was such a profound part of him. Seeing him rested and centered was even more of a relief than Obi-Wan had expected.

As Padawan to the most sought-after field Jedi in the order, the battle with the Sith was not the worst — or even the most dire — situation Obi-Wan had seen his Master in. In fact, as Qui-Gon had returned to the ship not bleeding, Force restrained, or unconscious, it shouldn't even have ranked among the top ten. But it had scared him, unlike anything Obi-Wan had ever felt from Qui-Gon before, and Obi-Wan had not seen his Master afraid often, at least when he himself wasn't somehow injured or incapacitated. This was something bigger than both of them, and it was only out of respect for that that Obi-Wan hadn't badgered Qui-Gon into confiding in him sooner.

Well, he thought ruefully, perhaps not the _only_ reason.

Qui-Gon turned where he sat to face Obi-Wan fully, tucking his bare feet more comfortably beneath his thighs. Obi-Wan was unfairly endeared; Qui-Gon's general distaste for wearing shoes when not required by custom or necessity was one of the many idiosyncrasies Obi-Wan so loved about him. Still stung from all that had happened in the last few days, endeared or not, Obi-Wan stayed where he was, forcing his eyes back to the spot Anakin had just vacated as he waited for Qui-Gon to speak.

"Padawan, before I..."

"Grovel?" Obi-Wan offered.

He felt more than saw Qui-Gon's mouth quirk upward at one corner. "Before I attempt to explain my actions these past weeks, if you don't mind I would have your thoughts."

Obi-Wan almost laughed, but it would have been an ugly sound and so he swallowed it back. "Ah, would you?" He couldn't keep the derision completely out of his tone, however, which was irksome and made him feel ashamed. His mouth tightened when Qui-Gon sighed and said, "Obi-Wan…"

"My thoughts on which part?" Obi-Wan asked. "My thoughts on the first Sith in a thousand years appearing without warning? Or my Master returning to our ship already bonded to a child of prophecy? My bondmate refusing to speak to me about either of those things afterward, and then blocking our bond in his turmoil instead of trusting me to handle it? My Master's insistence that I am ready for Knighthood despite no prior conversation with me or the Council? The Council's assertion that I am _not_ ready after I have done everything in my power to prove myself to them after the stigma of having been a Padawan reluctantly chosen at thirteen? My complete failure to control my emotions and subsequent traumatizing of a nine year old boy — and thus proving the Council quite correct — after the fact?" 

His voice was mild, and he felt quiet inside, but the sort of quiet that came from a haunting emptiness rather than peace. He turned his head to give Qui-Gon a grin that was far more self-deprecating than he wanted it to be. "It's been an eventful few weeks, Master. You'll have to be more specific."

Qui-Gon looked wounded, pain bright in his eyes before they dropped momentarily from Obi-Wan's face to their joined hands. Obi-Wan followed his gaze and realized that his knuckles were bloodless from the amount of pressure he was putting them under. He was gripping Qui-Gon's fingers as though someone might try and force them apart. Startled, he unclenched his hand and grazed his fingertips gently over his Master's, sending a pulse of healing energy over the sore spots he'd left, and then pulling his hand away completely to fold both into opposing, voluminous sleeves of his robe.

"Forgive me," he murmured, bemused. "Perhaps I am far more tired than I thought."

Familiar fingers gripped his chin, encouraging him to look up into warm blue eyes, and he instinctively leaned into the big hand that cupped his cheek. 

"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon breathed. Through their bond, he said, _Did I wound you so badly in my pig-headedness when we first met? Am I the cause of these old insecurities you told Anakin about? They're tearing you apart. Have I done this to you?_

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly, letting his eyes fall closed so that he could savor the feeling of Qui-Gon's mind touching his so intimately for a few moments. When he pulled back, he felt somewhat more collected. "No," he answered honestly. "Qui-Gon, no. Is that what you've been thinking?"

"At times," Qui-Gon admitted. "I have tried to reassure you of my confidence in you, over the years, but you have kept this sore point very well hidden. When it did show in the past, it was when you were exhausted or had made a mistake, and I didn't want to accidentally spawn an inferiority complex by bringing it up when you were younger. It was arrogance that my previous Padawans struggled with. I admit that I found myself floundering when it came to your difficulty with the opposite." He frowned apologetically. "It's been years since you last even hinted of it, though. I assumed that you had realized that it had little to do with you, and made peace with it."

"I did," Obi-Wan assured him. "Within a few months, at most, even. When we met you were so badly hurt, still. You were protecting a wound that had been festering for years. I doubt even if I had been flawless, you would have behaved any differently. Much like myself with Anakin, you were looking for fault in me because you needed the excuse."

Qui-Gon stroked his thumb just under Obi-Wan's bottom lip, nodding. "All true, my very wise Padawan."

It wasn't pity, because Qui-Gon didn't do pity, but he was treating Obi-Wan with a delicacy that was grating. Obi-Wan pulled away from the soothing hand on his face with the pretense of stretching his arms out and rolling his shoulders. His spine crackled pleasantly and he sighed in relief. His back was aching from the amount of tension he'd been carrying. When he was finished, he leaned back onto the heels of his hands and gazed unseeing at the dull ceiling of the hold. 

It was difficult to voice these thoughts and memories. The truth of the matter was that Obi-Wan had been struggling well before he'd met Qui-Gon. The vast majority of Initiates were chosen as Padawans at the age of eleven or equivalent for their species. The day that Obi-Wan had turned eleven and not been chosen had begun this slow descent. He returned his attention to his Master. "It's everything before you that still bothers me, really. The root of that anger you first saw in me."

Qui-Gon frowned. "I was not aware of any mishaps in your youth."

"No mishaps," Obi-Wan said, grinning a little at the diplomacy. "Nothing that would be in my file, as it was all very internal."

"How so?"

Obi-Wan tilted his head thoughtfully, searching for the words. His usual eloquence seemed to have abandoned him. "Did you know that I was one of two Initiates in my year who had reached thirteen. Hell, who had reached twelve." The other had been Bruck Chun, whose similar feelings had manifested into worse ones, such as worthlessness and self-loathing, and had made him easy prey to Xanatos. Obi-Wan shook himself out of those particular dark memories. "And I was the first in over a decade to be sent to the Agri Corps by force rather than desire."

This wasn't something that touched him anymore, something that he ever thought about anymore, until he'd been shoved headfirst back into it with no warning. The memory of the shame and embarrassment was still crystal clear to him after all these years. The constant cycle of worry, and anticipation, and getting his hopes up and having them crushed had beaten him down so many times he had no idea how he'd kept forcing himself back up again. "It wasn't even that I wasn't being noticed. I think I may have dealt better if it had been that. But I actually had several potential Masters come to assess my potential. Two or three who even spent a few days with me before they decided that I wasn't a good fit."

Qui-Gon shook his head, troubled and saddened. "It is a practice that I have brought up with the Council many times, even before you were born. Even as a Padawan myself. That we should encourage families to give their children to the Jedi Order, and then send them away again. That we allow Masters to assess Initiates as though pets in a shop window. Tradition it may be, but the cost is too high."

Obi-Wan shrugged. He agreed, and though he had been the first in a decade there had been a steady increase in the number of Initiates sent to the service corps or leaving the order after failing to be chosen by a Master. "Ninety-nine percent of the time I'm at peace with it. I can rationalize myself out of worrying about it. There are less of us than there used to be, not enough Masters to go around. Perhaps the ones who came to see me had been going through something similar to what you had been and it had little to do with me at all. That other one percent, though…"

"Padawan," Qui-Gon began delicately, but Obi-Wan cut him off before he said more.

"If I hear the words 'it was the Will of the Force' come out of your mouth, Qui-Gon Jinn, I swear to every god we've ever heard of that you will never get laid again."

Qui-Gon laughed. He moved again, unfolding himself so that he could lie stretched out on his back across the heavy trunk. It was just long enough for him, though his hair spilled over the edge. Obi-Wan looked down at his smiling face and leaned into the hand that slid beneath his undertunic to rest on the small of his back. "In that case, I will simply continue to be grateful for the oversight of these other Masters that brought you into my life, and for your forgiveness of my own that has kept you here."

It was nice to hear. Qui-Gon had always had a way with words and a flair for choosing the right ones. He was still treading carefully, Obi-Wan thought, studying him. The anger that had been set at a soft simmer for days had yet to lessen, and even with their shields mostly down he was still certain there was something Qui-Gon wasn't telling him and at this point Obi-Wan wasn't sure that he even wanted to know. Some small and weak part of him was waiting for Qui-Gon to gently explain to him that, while he appreciated their time as Master and Apprentice, and of course that he hoped Obi-Wan would remain at his side as his bondmate, the path of Jedi had obviously been one that Obi-Wan wasn't meant to walk.

He'd be wrong. Obi-Wan did still occasionally struggle with these insecurities, but he knew them for what they were and he could not, would not allow them anymore power over him. 

"I was meant to be a Jedi," he told Qui-Gon, who looked startled.

"Of course you were."

"No," said Obi-Wan. His voice was hard. "You don't get to say it like it was a given to you all along. I was meant to be a Jedi. With or without you as my Master, with or without the Council's approval, even if I had been expelled from the Order after Melida/Daan, or when I wasn't chosen by the time I was thirteen, or if the Order had never found me in the first place. I've known for a very long time that where I am and what I'm doing is exactly where I'm supposed to be, that a Jedi Knight is who I am. And since becoming your apprentice I'd never had cause to doubt that until you tried to drop me like Master Kuchki's eighth hour Ancient Mandalorian Philosophy class in front of the entire fucking High Council so that you could train the Chosen One."

Once again in less than two days, reining in his emotions was beyond him, and as he raised his shields in an effort to get himself under control the lifebond throbbed in despair that he felt the need to protect himself from his mate. Obi-Wan ignored both the headache and Qui-Gon's slight flinch, trying and failing to keep his composure, to let it all go, but it was a futile effort and at heart an unhealthy one. He needed this.

He'd tried to keep himself too busy and it mostly worked, preoccupied with the need to apologize for how badly he'd treated Anakin since he'd arrived on board in Tatooine and worrying about the frayed edges of his lover's mind after his shields had taken such a beating, but every time Obi-Wan had found himself with even only a spare second it was all he'd been able to do to not give in to the hurt that he'd felt. That he still felt. He _hurt_. Not as Qui-Gon's bondmate, because he knew how deeply Qui-Gon loved him, but as his Padawan. As the Initiate who had been tested and found wanting again and again. As a Jedi. The man who knew him better than any other and was most well suited to assess his competence and skill had set him aside in favor of a stronger, brighter light. He had given everything he had, everything he was to this chosen path. His very best wasn't good enough.

"Oh, love," Qui-Gon breathed, his voice thick with emotion. Even shielded Obi-Wan's thoughts had reached him loud and clear. His fingers dug gently into Obi-Wan's back

Obi-Wan shook his head, letting the hurt wash through him fully for the first time. It brought a greater measure of clarity, as accepting his feelings often did. His feelings had been more powerful than his logic, but knowing that didn't make them easier to bear. "I know that I am not being entirely fair. I know you think me capable, but _damn it_ , Qui-Gon. For someone so well versed in diplomacy, one would hope you'd know how to break a new training bond to me with a little more grace."

"One would hope," Qui-Gon agreed. His voice was wet but there was a curl of amusement in it not quite quelled by the sorrow. "If you'll notice, my Padawan, you have acquired a new training bond with young Skywalker yourself."

"Hmph," Obi-Wan said, though he couldn't deny it. It was not yet substantial the way the one the boy had forged with Qui-Gon was, but it was certainly present. A faint, shimmering thread in his mind that hadn't been there an hour ago. "The boy forms bonds as easily as he gives hugs. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he has a training bond with Captain Panaka and that astromech droid he's adopted."

"He treasures connection with others," Qui-Gon murmured. "I don't believe he even realizes."

Obi-Wan hummed an agreement. He was awed by Anakin, and terrified of the effect his negative emotions could have on the boy, felt sick at the harm he'd already done to him. He drew one of his knees up to his chest and rested his cheek on it. "A lifebond has formed between he and Padme. It's not even of his own doing. These bonds are…"

"The will of the Force?" Qui-Gon finished. Obi-Wan smacked him lightly in the belly and Qui-Gon chuckled, covering Obi-Wan's hand with his own. "A lifebond formed at the will of the Force, subdued until both parties are ready to accept it. That sound familiar to you?"

"No," Obi-Wan said, just to be contrary. He wanted to stay irritated and repressed until this damn mission was behind them, but it was difficult when they had little to do but talk and Qui-Gon was being cheeky and soothing. Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon sit up and a second later felt arms wrap around him from behind. He was pulled between Qui-Gon's spread legs, cradled into his Master's broad chest and a surge of healing energy washed over him. He protested weakly. "Qui, don't. You've hardly recuperated, yourself."

"After thirty-six hours in a healing trance I am more than fortified, my own, and you are exhausted." His lips grazed the tender skin just behind Obi-Wan's ear where his braid rested, and the arms around him let go only enough to loosen Obi-Wan's belt and ease the heavy folds of his overtunic apart. Qui-Gon's huge hands slid underneath Obi-Wan's undertunic to rest on his stomach, skin to skin. Their lifebond all but sang. Qui-Gon tucked his bare feet under Obi-Wan's outstretched thighs and held him tightly. His voice was more than a whisper, but so very quiet, for Obi-Wan only. "You _are_ good enough, my Padawan. You have exceeded every expectation I have had for any of my Padawans. You are worth more than I have ever been able to convince you. You are strong, and wise, and the Force is far more powerful in you than you know. You are beloved as both my bondmate and my Padawan. It kills me to know that I've made you doubt that. I'm so very sorry, Obi-Wan."

"Will you tell me why?" Obi-Wan asked. His voice didn't break but it was a near thing. He couldn't think of anymore jokes to lighten the conversation. He felt fragile in a way he hadn't since he was a child. "Can you?"

"I can tell you what led me to my thoughtlessness before the Council, and hope that you will forgive and old fool his blindness." Qui-Gon said. "As you said to Anakin, desperation can drive us to thoughtless deeds. Sometimes ones that hurt those we love most."

"Desperation?" Obi-Wan repeated. Qui-Gon's mind was open to him. Obi-Wan could _feel_ his guilt and worry and fear and even the painful knowledge that given a second chance he would probably do the same again, but it didn't help in deciphering the reasoning behind it.

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Desperate is hardly a word I would associate with you."

Qui-Gon took a deep, slow breath, and touched his lips to Obi-Wan's cheek when Obi-Wan covered both of Qui-Gon's hands with his own where they rested on his belly. It took him a long time to being to talk. "The Jedi Code dissuades us from attachment, but as you were quick to remind me of before our departure from Coruscant, I have ever been something of a loose canon. I follow the Code only in that it agrees with the guidance I receive from the Force. It has most often been to my benefit and my favor. In this case I am no different. Whether it will be to my benefit or not remains to be seen."

"The Force led you to Anakin?" Obi-Wan interrupted. "That's your exc—"

"Shh," Qui-Gon cut him off, rubbing his hand in a soothing circle over Obi-Wan's stomach. "Let me finish. Yes, I am positive that the Force led me to Anakin, as I'm sure it would have you had you gone instead of me, or any other Jedi who might have been there had we not. It led all of us. Panaka to find the means to save his Queen, Padme to find her soulmate, myself to find—"

"Your future Padawan."

"Possibly, yes," Qui-Gon said. He held Obi-Wan more tightly when Obi-Wan flinched. "Obi-Wan, Anakin is...incredible. An unprecedented midichlorian count, a boy inundated with kindness despite the slavery he was brought up in, such a extraordinary vergence in the Force that he could move whole galaxies if the whimsy took him. I had no doubt then or now that he would be a joy to teach, but at no point had I intended to do anything more than inform the Council of his existence in the hope that a team might later be sent with the funds to free him as well as his mother. I didn't consider it until I discovered his connection with you."

Obi-Wan's eyes shot open. He pulled out of Qui-Gon's arms enough to half-turn so he could see his Master's face. Qui-Gon's expression gave little away, his eyes alight with the love that pulsed in their bond and no further answer. "With _me_?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "With you. With your future."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as he drew his eyebrows together, confused. It was very nearly absurd. Qui-Gon had no prescient ability and due to the general chaos (and no small amount of pain) that Obi-Wan's seemed to always cause, little patience or appreciation for it. It seemed impossible that he would have acquired some latent talent. "You had a vision?"

"No," said Qui-Gon. "Not me."

For the love of—-Obi-Wan made an aggravated sound and spun around, straddling Qui-Gon's lap to face him properly. If his bondmate would just _speak plainly_ perhaps Obi-Wan's desire to punch him in the balls would lessen. This wasn't a fucking teaching moment to be taken advantage of. "Master, you're not making sense. I've never Seen any of this. Until we landed there Tatooine had only ever been a spot on a map to me. I assure you I'd certainly never heard of Anakin Skywalker."

Qui-Gon hushed him gently, cupping the side of Obi-Wan's neck, thumb stroking over the hinge of his jaw. It occurred to Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon wasn't being coy on purpose. This was difficult for him. "I am not speaking of you, either."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened with realization. "The boy?"

Qui-Gon looked grave, his eyes distant for a moment as he nodded. "The night we spent in the slave quarters, Anakin woke from a dream screaming as though he were being tortured. Padme and I were closest, on cots in the main room between Anakin's and his mother's. Anakin was inconsolable." He cleared his throat, visibly shaking himself out of the memory to meet Obi-Wan's troubled gaze. "He was crying your name, love."

In a fantastic show of Jedi stoicism, Obi-Wan stared open-mouthed and disbelieving. He couldn't have been more stunned had he been shot with a stunner. In fact he had, before, and it was still nothing compared to this. 

As a safety measure, Qui-Gon would only have spoken of Obi-Wan only if he had to, and even then only as his apprentice, never by name. Anakin would not have heard it, and even if he had some telepathic gift, he was only human and Qui-Gon's shields could and had withstood even the strongest of telepaths in the known galaxy. It was possible that the queen had misspoken, but Obi-Wan doubted it, gifted in revealing as little as possible as she was. A Force sensitive child with visions wasn't impossible, as Obi-Wan had been one himself, but with visions so specific as to learn a name? To clearly place language and setting rather than just feeling? Anakin was too young.

Qui-Gon was desperately searching his face but Obi-Wan had no comfort to offer. He was utterly nonplussed. Qui-Gon's mouth pressed into a tight line and he touched his fingertips to Obi-Wan's temple and then tilted his head, asking silently for permission. Obi-Wan nodded dazedly and Qui-Gon closed his eyes.

The next instant, Obi-Wan was sitting on the floor in a small hovel of a house, seeing through Qui-Gon's eyes as Anakin sobbed into the queen's neck. Padme looked stricken, holding the poor child tightly and murmuring soothing nonsense while his mother knelt next to them, rubbing Anakin's back, and Qui-Gon did his best to soothe him by sending calming waves of reassurance and security through their fledgling bond. Anakin was pale and impossibly small in the oversized nightshirt he wore, and though Obi-Wan could only see Anakin's eyes through a gap in the curtain of Padme's hair, they were glazed and shining blue as though powered by Ilum crystals, exactly as Obi-Wan's were in the midst of his own visions. The boy was still partially screaming through his wrenching sobs, shouting actual words, rapid-fire and desolate in a voice far beyond his years. 

_"I'm sorry I'm sorry Obi-Wan what have I done I'm so sorry please I don't want to hurt you I didn't mean to hurt you I didn't mean to hurt her save her Obi-Wan please please please oh_ Force _help me my friend my brother I'm sorry I'm so sorry fix this fix me make this right make me right I need you Obi-Wan Obi-Wan Obi-Wan—"_

Obi-Wan blinked and jolted back into the present, nearly gagging at the echo of horrible pain and fear and desperate, aching sorrow that had radiated from Anakin in Qui-Gon's memory. The sincerity of the emotions was pristine, the strength of them unreal. Qui-Gon's shields had taken a battering well before he'd encountered a Sith lord. Obi-Wan was floored.

"Huh," he said helpfully.

Qui-Gon's eyes were wet, and he cupped Obi-Wan's face in both hands and thumbed away the tears that were running unchecked down Obi-Wan's cheeks, but even they didn't feel like his own. Phantom tears for Anakin's pain. "He fell asleep not long after. I was...Well, bloody unsettled, to say the least."

Obi-Wan held back a hysterical little giggle and Qui-Gon went on. "After we'd put him back to bed, Shmi tried to comfort me, even through her own tears. She said that it had happened before, and often, ever since he was an infant. Not just visions but specific to you. He knew your name by the time he started talking. Yours, and Padme's."

"I don't…" Obi-Wan started, but could think of nothing else to say. 'Believe it' was what came to mind, but would have been a lie. Even if he hadn't seen it himself, he could feel that it was the truth. Qui-Gon took a few deep breaths and Obi-Wan touched his cheek and the bridge of his nose, down over the nape of his neck. Qui-Gon half-smiled his thanks. 

"Shmi said that it wasn't always so terrible. She said that sometimes it was as though he was sleepwalking, and instead of screaming for forgiveness he'd be holding a conversation with you on his wedding day or at the birth of his children, and other times it was mundane conversation, even though the subject at hand was what he referred to as 'the war'." He shrugged helplessly. "She'd come to treasure those, because the bad ones came so much more frequently."

Obi-Wan had to swallow and wet his throat before he could find his voice. "Had you told her about me yet?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I did then." He sighed deeply and rested his head against Obi-Wan's chest. Obi-Wan hugged him tightly. Qui-Gon's voice was a little muffled when he spoke again. "She was afraid, but I don't believe she was very surprised. She had hoped that these were night terrors, nothing but an overactive imagination and something he might grow out of, but a part of her always knew that they were more, I think."

"Qui-Gon, did he know you?" Obi-Wan wanted to know. "Had he ever Seen you?"

"Occasionally, she said, when he was younger. It had been years since she'd heard my name."

For some reason, that was more upsetting than anything else Qui-Gon had told him thus far, and he found himself clutching his bondmate closer as though Qui-Gon might slip through his grip at any moment, lost. 

"Gods, what does this mean?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice muffled against Qui-Gon's hair. He didn't expect an answer; Qui-Gon was just as clueless as he was and he held Obi-Wan just as desperately as Qui-Gon held him. The danger that the Council had felt in him, was it beyond the logical conclusion that so much power was by definition dangerous? Had they Seen, as Anakin had, this future that woke this boy screaming? And hell, what were these visions doing to _him?_ He was a child, a child so bright as to be a beacon of light in a dark universe, but a child nonetheless. He must have been so terrified to experience such dark feelings and such clarity as to their cause. How had he not been driven mad?

"I don't know," Qui-Gon answered. He slid his fingers back through Obi-Wan's hair, massaging his scalp on the way down to cup the back of his neck. "I don't know, and it scares me still. I could hardly bear seeing the boy in such pain, and the Force wrapped around us so strongly, and my soul cried out in terror for _you_. I'm certain that Anakin's fate is entwined with yours, Obi-Wan, and that both your futures may be shrouded in darkness. The possibilities…I have no idea if it was the will of the Force that drove me or the fear in my heart." He shook his head in wonder. "He _is_ the Chosen One. He will bring balance to the Force. But what is balance? Which way does the scale tip now?" 

He drew Obi-Wan's head down until their foreheads touched. Their bond was exceptionally bright, bathing Obi-Wan in warmth. "I fear that the fate of the galaxy may rest on his shoulders, my love. And I fear that his may rest on yours."

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan whispered. His bondmate's soul was so beautiful, his emotions so pure, even tumultuous as they were. Qui-Gon took a shuddering breath.

"Desperation drove me to blindness. My fear for your future, your life. It was my failure as your Master that I claimed Anakin as Padawan, that I saw fit to treat you as my lover to protect instead of the Jedi that you are. But as your bondmate, I cannot feel guilt for defying the Council or my Padawan when what is at risk is the other half of my soul." He gazed up at Obi-Wan with calm, wet eyes. "I do not doubt that you can take care of yourself. Whatever you may believe, you are twice the man I am, and you will be twice the Knight. What I doubt is my ability to see you suffer. I am a selfish man, my Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan was trembling, but armed with this knowledge he felt for the first time in days a sense of true peace. Qui-Gon had not set him aside. He was not being pulled from his Master's side, he was being guided ever closer. The Force had not led Qui-Gon to Anakin; it had led Anakin to them both: the maverick Master and the reluctantly chosen Padawan.

He would need to apologize to Anakin again, he realized. His advice that Anakin understand the depth and possible dangers of his strength was valid, but it had been unfair of Obi-Wan to call him dangerous. Misunderstandings were dangerous, willful ignorance and those who covet power they don't have were dangerous. Anakin was a boy, with vast depths of empathy and good common sense and strength of character, who needed training and guidance and support. He needed a Master, and there was none better than Qui-Gon Jinn. It would be Obi-Wan's honor to share. Qui-Gon's approval flickered through the bond. _Such a wise man is my apprentice._

Obi-Wan grinned. _As you said, I am very good about apologizing once I realize I'm in the wrong._

Qui-Gon inclined his head and drew Obi-Wan's hand to his lips. _It helps to have all of the facts. I am sorry that I kept them from you for so long._

_Don't be. You needed to heal, to gather your strength. And I needed to face this weakness my insecurities have instilled in me._

Qui-Gon thumbed over the cleft of Obi-Wan's chin. _You_ are _ready for the Trials, Obi-Wan. As much as it pains me to admit it._

It wasn't unheard of, but at twenty-one Obi-Wan would have been one of the youngest humans to ever be made Knight, and a sense of wrongness and melancholia welled up in him as it did in the Council chamber, though it was this time tempered by healthy pride. "I have much to learn," he murmured.

Qui-Gon didn't answer, at least not audibly, but his downy soft beard brushed over the Obi-Wan's chin and a kiss was pressed to the underside of his jaw. Obi-Wan slipped a hand beneath the wide, dipping neck of Qui-Gon's shirt to press flat on his chest and closed his eyes. He let Qui-Gon's strong, steady heartbeat echo through him, continue to calm him the way it did when either of them were ill or injured or when his visions left him brittle. The shock and fear and worry and anger should have still been there, Qui-Gon's memory of Anakin screaming his name still at the forefront of his mind, but they bled away, felt and accepted and released. His connection with the Living Force had never been very strong, something he and Qui-Gon both despaired of for different reasons, but now it felt as though he were a conduit for the swells that cradled him, touching every part of him, flowing through him so steadily it felt as though it had always been this way. His lifebond with Qui-Gon flared brighter than ever and they reached for each other within it.

He hadn't even realized they'd fallen into meditation until they surfaced, and the chrono on the wall showed that nearly two hours had passed. Qui-Gon's legs were probably going numb, but he didn't complain. Obi-Wan shrugged out of his loose overtunic, tangled his fingers in Qui-Gon's unbound hair and pressed a kiss to his upturned lips. After so long without speaking his voice is quiet and rough. "Do you remember what you told the young Princess of Montressor?"

"You'll have to remind me," Qui-Gon said, easing Obi-Wan's undertunic up his torso with clever fingers. Obi-Wan lifted his arms so that Qui-Gon could peel it off, and with a thought the lock on the door of the hold engaged. He kicked off his own boots and tugged Qui-Gon's shirt over his head at the same time, and then Qui-Gon lifted his hips to allow Obi-Wan to pull his leggings down. His own joined the pile on the floor and Qui-Gon drew him in close. Obi-Wan had no idea how long he'd been aroused, but it felt good, felt right, cold cargo hold and looming danger notwithstanding. Qui-Gon was hard, too, his cock a huge, hot line along the swell of Obi-Wan's arse. Obi-Wan's mouth was dry with _want_.

"She was obsessed with telling fortunes and reading the stars. She was so intent on looking for a sign, so certain that destiny alone would arrive in a chariot and save her people from falling into the civil war they were on the brink of. She thought we would agree with her, because Jedi followed the will of the Force. I thought the palace was going to be stormed before we could talk sense into her."

"If I remember correctly," Qui-Gon drawled, "it was. And we spent nearly a month either in hiding from assassins underground or mediating hostilities before we were able to convince her to abdicate the throne."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "True, but one of the things you said to her has always stuck with me. You told her that whatever the will of the Force may be, it is the choices you make that define you."

Qui-Gon smiled up at him, sliding his hand over Obi-Wan's flank. "I was something of a poet, wasn't I?"

Obi-Wan pinched him in the side and swallowed Qui-Gon's yelp in a kiss. Qui-Gon slapped him on the arse in retaliation, and the subsequen wrestling match tumbled them to the floor, breathless with laughter. Qui-Gon pinned him down, only to become distracted by searching for the oil in one of the pockets of the utility belt still attached to Obi-Wan's discarded leggings. As soon as he had it in hand Obi-Wan rolled them, beaming triumphantly as Qui-Gon grumbled about the impertinence of youth. Shutting him up was as easy as snaring his smiling mouth in another thorough kiss. Obi-Wan had had multiple lovers both as a teenager and once he was of age before he and Qui-Gon had bonded, but none of them had ever made Obi-Wan laugh so much in bed. He hadn't known how _fun_ sex could be until Qui-Gon. 

Their bond fed their passion, took it to impossible heights, and easy laughter became slow, deep kissing and their playful touches turned sensual. Qui-Gon propped himself up against the side of the box trunk they'd fallen from and overtop him Obi-Wan framed Qui-Gon's thighs with his legs. Slick, calloused fingers opened him up and then he lowered himself down over the thick length of Qui-Gon's cock. The burn made his stomach clench with pleasure and his chest went tight from the fullness once he'd taken it all in. He was sweaty and shaking with need, and Qui-Gon's eyes were heavy-lidded and dark blue with desire.

It had been weeks — the longest they'd gone without sex since their bond had fully formed. Neither of them were going to last very long, but there were certain perks to a Jedi's knowledge and control. There was little to no limit on how much lovemaking their bodies could take.

They fucked for hours on the floor of the hold, lost in each other, in the Force weaving them so tightly together, until they were covered in lovebites and their knees were bruised and their bodies sore. Once exhausted, they lie in the pile of their discarded clothes and kissed until their lips were chapped, their heart rates slowing to normal. 

After they were sure that everyone else on the ship had gone to sleep for the night, they pulled their leggings back on and snuck back to the cabin they were sharing, stopping in the corridors to trade kisses every few steps. They showered separately — Obi-Wan was relatively compact but a man of Qui-Gon's stature was not suited to sharing a 'fresher the size of this one — and dressed in clean clothes, and then curled up together in the same bunk that Qui-Gon had vacated earlier. Obi-Wan was exhausted, and sated, which was a nice change from exhausted and pissed off. He covered Qui-Gon's hand where it rested on his belly and reached for him through the bond, smiling as Qui-Gon's mind enveloped him lovingly.

 _Am I forgiven my foolishness?_ Even Qui-Gon's mental voice was thick and sated.

Obi-Wan tilted his head back, shifting so that Qui-Gon's arm could rest in the alcove between the arch of his neck and the mattress. After a year as lovers, they'd become experts on sleeping together in cramped spaces with maximum comfort. Obi-Wan hummed sleepily. _For failing to communicate with me and the way you handled the situation yes. For your insistence regarding Anakin, no forgiveness is needed. I behaved at least as badly, if not worse._

Qui-Gon let out a shuddering breath, warm on the back of Obi-Wan's neck. _Hurting you is the last thing I meant to do. I let my fear get the better of me._

 _Well, you had just fought a Sith. Your mind wasn't exactly in a state for thoughtful decision making._ Obi-Wan shivered, remembering the rank, effusive darkness that had seemed to blot out Tatooine's twin suns. _Neither of us was really in well enough form for a meeting with the Council._

Qui-Gon rumbled a sleepy laugh. "Ah, but are we truly ever?"

Obi-Wan turned in the loop of Qui-Gon's arm to lie on his back, and after snaring his lover's mouth in a soft kiss he gathered Qui-Gon into his arms, stroking long hair as Qui-Gon settled over him like a blanket, his head tucked beneath Obi-Wan's chin. Obi-Wan waited for him to settle. _I do trust the choices you make, Qui. Through them I see the man I respect, and honor and love above all else. I can only ask for your patience when in my stubbornness I forget that._

 _Oh, Obi-Wan._ Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to the throb of Obi-Wan's pulse. _All that you need to remember is that the greatest choice I will ever make was the one to spend my life with you._

 

the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was cathartic! I'm still very shaky on confidence in this fandom and the enormous universe that it entails, but I have been looking for a fandom in which I could use terms of endearment like 'beloved' and 'my own' unironically for so long. Finding it has been such a gift. My kingdom for sap and angst and more sap, forever and even amen. I do apologize for the excessive amount of sap, though. I did mention this was the most id fic of any id fic ever to id, right?
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope those of you that celebrate had a wonderful Christmas!


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